4 1 2 8 0 4 7
by M.Kena
Summary: What do those numbers mean? Well, they mean the Winchesters are rich! Response to P.L. Wynter’s challenge, What if the boys won the lottery? Just for fun...can it be humor and angst at the same time? A nothing special oneshot that wouldn't leave me alone


**A/N**: So yes, I've been reading P.L. Wynter's forum for a long time, and haven't had the guts to answer any challenges, but this one was nagging and I had to do it. It's simply teasing and brotherly moments, please don't flame, and comments make me happy. I just couldn't get another chapter of The Ghost Of You out with this floating around.

**Warnings:** hmm, a few curse words.

**Disclaimer:** Well, I own this story, I suppose, and Danica and her little brother. But Supernatural and all their characters belong to Kripke and the other geniuses I love dearly. And congrats to all involved for getting another season. I hope you stick around for a long long time!

Read, review and **enjoy**!

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"Come on Sammy, nothing good ever happens to me." Dean whined holding out a piece of paper to his brother. Sam rolled his eyes and continued looking for a carton of milk with a still unexpired poll date. 

"Glad I mean so much in your book." He looked at Dean who was pouting. "You look ridiculous."

"Dude, come on. What good are physic powers if you don't use them, huh?" Dean asked.

"I can't just use them like that, Dean." Sam whispered, looking around for people giving him the weird stares he'd been so afraid of when all this shit started up again. "And can we not talk about this in public?"

"What? Your freakiness?" Dean asked innocently, but that glint in his eye spoke otherwise. Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother and he shoved the carton of milk into Dean's chest. Dean's air left his lungs with an "oof" and he doubled over, laughing and gasping for air. "Gees, Sam, I didn't know you were so sensitive. Is it your time of the month?"

A girl in the convenience store gave Dean a strange look and he winked at her, making her blush and turn away.

"You're so chivalrous, it amazes me." Sam said sarcastically.

"And you're so tedious it pisses me off." Dean shot back. "I've looked in a Thesaurus too, Joe College." He hissed at Sam's look of amazement.

"You want it smooth or crunchy?" Sam asked, appraising an item on another aisle. Dean leaned on one of those cheap metal shelves and stared at his brother.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean whispered. Sam looked up at him, grinned goofily and showed Dean the two containers.

"Smooth?" He asked, putting out the jar with the red wrapper. "Or crunchy?" He pulled the smooth kind back and waved the jar with the blue wrapper in his brother's face. "Peanut butter, you pervert."

"I'm not a pervert." Dean pouted, snatching the smooth kind. Crunchy peanut butter was just… wrong. Two way different textures… ew, made him cringe.

Dean had always had a texture problem. Even if food tasted okay, he would gag instantly if it was slimy or unusual. Sam had made the mistake of bringing home sushi once, to "culture" his family. Dean was throwing up for an hour. Each time he thought about it he heaved anything he'd eaten.

"You weren't using your upstairs brain, that's for sure." Sam muttered.

"I was using my, Take-advantage-of-little-Sammy's-new-powers-to-make-some-money, brain." Dean explained. "Peanut butter isn't free you know, and neither is gas. Three bucks, Sam. The Impala isn't exactly a light drinker."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Sam injected. "With all the driving we do, I think a Hybrid…"

"Save it, Samantha. That car is a part of the family. We're not getting rid of her." Dean walked over to the "freezer" section and got a beer. Sam rolled his eyes and found a jar of raspberry jam. No jelly. Good. Jelly was too sweet and artificial. And jam reminded Dean of their mother, she used to make jam when the raspberries were in season. Even though Sam didn't remember his mother, he loved to hear Dean's stories about her. He loved that smile Dean got only when remembering her, the twinkle in his eyes.

They'd realized the price and time advantages of buying those peanut butter and jelly in one jars, but well, neither Sam or Dean's stomach's had reacted well to that.

Sam was about to go to the check out, when Dean grabbed his shoulder. "I'm not going to do it, Dean."

"Come on, just try." Dean begged.

"Dean! I'm not going to…"

"I gave up on Vegas, come on man. Favors need to go both ways." Dean put the lottery ticket into Sam's hands. "Just come on, seven little numbers, that's all." Sam sighed.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and scrunched his face in concentration, staggered a little, but compensated. He gave the ticket back to Dean, whose eyes were wide, mouth open.

"Five, one, two, eight, zero, four, seven." Sam whispered.

Dean stared at the ticket for a minute, whose eyes were still wide, mouth still open. Sam smiled, patted his brother's shoulder and took their milk, jam, smooth peanut butter, and Wonder Bread to the check out.

"Just this?" The clerk asked, smiling. She was about twenty, looked bored, but Sam couldn't help but notice her startlingly large eyes. She had that innocent doe eyes that Sam found endearing.

"And this lottery ticket." Dean barged in, slapping the paper on the desk. He gave the clerk a cheesy smile and nodded, walking off to observe the adult magazines. Sam rolled his eyes and looked back at the clerk.

"Brothers?" She asked curiously, ringing up their few items. Sam nodded.

"Yeah." He muttered. She smiled.

"I've got one just like him." She explained, looking up at him. "You the older, or younger?"

"Younger." Sam whispered, checking over his shoulder to make sure Dean wasn't doing anything too bad. She chuckled.

"Dylan watches after me like that too. You'd think being the older sibling that I should be the protective one… and I am." She rang up the peanut butter, but the price came up VOID. "Dang it…" She whispered and got out a little red binder to search for the price.

"Dean's super protective…" Sam muttered, scanning the pages as well. She nodded.

"Oh, I am in a touch-my-brother-and-taste-fists type of way. But he's got that, mothering instinct, you know? It's just him and me now; he's the mother hen of the coop, definitely."

"Are you calling me a mother?" Sam asked, smiling but trying not to. She shrugged, also attempting to stifle her million dollar smile.

"I call them as I see them." She typed in the price of the peanut butter. "Eleven twenty five, please."

Sam handed her a twenty and she gave him his change and a plastic bag with their goodies.

"Good luck with this ticket, by the way. I bought one, hoping to send Dylan to school." She explained.

"Really?" Sam asked. "What for?" She gave him a look and he laughed softly. "I mean, what does he want to study?"

"Oh, Pre-Law, actually. The little punk wants to be a lawyer." She chuckled. "The same little brother who cried to get out of trouble. I don't think that'd go over well in the court rooms."

"Well if he's got the puppy-dog eyes and dimples down like Sammy here does, I'm sure it will work like a charm." Dean hung messily off his brother's shoulder and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Dean." She shook it.

"So I've heard." She said with a grin. "I'm Danica." She looked at Sam. "So you're Sammy? Fitting."

"It's actually Sam." He muttered, shrugging Dean off. "And we've got to get going, see you around, Danica."

"I hope so." She mumbled and went back to price checking. Sam stormed out with Dean hot on his tail.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Dean yelled. "She was totally into you and you just walked off?"

"Well, having your idiotic older brother spying on you doesn't really improve the mood, you know?" Sam got into the car.

"Don't call me idiotic."

"Fine, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Just drive, moron."

"You're a moron." Dean pouted and started the car, driving off.

_**4 1 2 8 0 4 7**_

"Don't you want to know if your numbers came through?" Dean asked, sitting patiently in front of the television.

Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, taking a seat next to his big brother.

"Dean, I made those numbers up. Your birthday, our age difference and my favorite number. I was playing with you…" Sam explained, but Dean shook his head.

"Don't be modest Sammy. They'll be time for that when we're millionaires."

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one."

"I'm gunna take a shower." Sam muttered and disappeared into the bathroom.

_**4 1 2 8 0 4 7**_

Dean's scream interrupted Sam's hot shower. He turned off the tap and listened.

Another scream.

He grabbed and towel and stumbled out of the bathroom.

"Dean! What's going o…" He paused and let his brows fall in anger.

Dean was jumping up and down, whooping in excitement.

"We're rich little brother! Rich!" He yelled excitedly. "Your fake ass numbers just won us big bucks."

Sam stared at his brother for a while as he continued to celebrate.

"Dean… this isn't a good thing." Sam whispered.

"Sammy, are you that stupid? This will…"

"You're dead Dean, legally. What do they do to lottery winners? They put them on T.V., they investigate their lives. We can't have some local news station blowing apart our secrets."

Sam watched his brother shrivel as he realized his younger brother was right. Dean sighed heavily and stared at the ticket.

"Damn it, nothing good ever happens to me." He pouted. Sam hooked his arm around his brother's neck.

"Aw, how about I buy you a beer?"

"We're broke…"

"I've got a little tuition money left over." He explained and felt Dean flinch. He hated to think that Sam had to drain his college account for their new jobs. "And besides, you deserve it."

Dean let a small smile creep on his face, but then it screwed up in disgust. "Dude! Get off me!" He snapped and shoved Sam away. "You're naked." He rubbed off his arm. "Gross, man." He mumbled.

Sam laughed and walked back into the bathroom to get dressed.

_**4 1 2 8 0 4 7**_

Sam patted Dean on the back. "What are you going to do with that ticket?" He asked.

"Maybe I'll hang on to it. It will remind me everyday of what I'm missing out on." He slurred, sipping from his beer.

Sam rarely saw his brother in these self loathing moments, but they tore him apart as much as they did Dean.

"Dean…"

"Calm down, Sammy. I'll go throw it away." Dean whispered. He stood up and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Meet me at the room, I've got to get some air."

_**4 1 2 8 0 4 7**_

Air, as Dean called it, was actually paying a trip to that small convenience store.

He licked the envelope closed, wrote Danica on it, and slipped it under the door. He cast one regretful glace at the dingy white paper and then walked back to the hotel.

Regret and "what ifs" settling heavily in his heart.

_**4 1 2 8 0 4 7**_

Dean awoke to someone shaking him. "Dean!" Sam whispered forcefully. Dean lifted his head enough so one eye was free from the pillow.

"What Sammy, what?" Dean asked impatiently.

"Get up, look at the news." Sam whispered. Dean groaned and rolled over.

Danica was on the news, a huge smile on her face.

"It's a blessing I guess. Something we needed terribly." She clutched the paper to her chest and Dean couldn't help but grin when that tear rolled down her flushed cheeks.

The pretty weather lady came on, but Sam muted it and looked at Dean, a smirk on his face.

"Pretty wild, huh? Her winning the lottery too." He said, sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah, small world." Dean got up slowly, heading towards the bathroom.

"That was cool of you, Dean." Sam whispered.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean answered back. Sam snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever man." He sat back on the bed, his hands behind him, supporting him. "Dean Winchester isn't as heartless as he appears."

"Fuck that. Dean Winchester is a heartless, soulless bastard."

"Who gives lottery tickets to poor, orphaned convenience store clerks." Sam corrected. Dean shrugged.

"Hey, she was hot. I thought I'd get something out of it."

"Guess she didn't need money that badly." Sam joked. Dean faked like he was going to hit him and pointed when he flinched.

"Two for flinching." He punched Sam's arm twice, effectively numbing it. "I'm gunna take a shower." He shut the door behind him softly and raked his hands through his hair.

"But Dean." Sam knocked softly on the door.

"What, Sam?" Dean asked impatiently, pulling the door open.

"Um… nothing…"

"What?" Dean persisted when his brother melted under his stern voice.

"I just… I really… I'm proud of you…"

Dean smiled and patted Sam's shoulder.

"That was so fucking close to a chick flick moment." He whispered and Sam punched his shoulder. "Ow! You punk!" Dean tried to punch him back, but Sam jumped out of the way.

"Ooh, getting slow Grandpa? Aren't you nearing your thirties now?" Sam taunted.

"You want to die, you little bitch?" Dean hissed.

"Careful, you might get some more wrinkles on your forehead."

Dean absently touched his forehead and Sam laughed. Dean grumbled something Sam didn't hear—probably didn't want to hear—and turned to look in the mirror.

"Christ, nothing good ever happens to me." Dean muttered. Sam patted his back.

"Oh come on, you know I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"And that sums up how pathetic my life is."

"I love you too, Dean."

Dean smiled at him, and then punched his left pectoral, numbing his entire left arm.

"Ooh Sammy…" Dean whispered, running his hand up his brother's bicep. "I think I cracked my knuckles with that one, you big strong man, you."

"I thought you were going to take a shower." Sam muttered, blushing with embarrassment.

"Is that an invite?"

"Nothing _that_ good will _ever_ happen to _you_."

"God I hope not."

_**4 1 2 8 0 4 7**_

_And in the dark corners of my mind_

_I reconsider my life and realize_

_There is so much left undone_

_So many things untouched _

_Reassure me of the future_

_Remind me there is still time_

**THE END**

**Review for me! Please and thank you, lovelies. **

**Love: Kena**


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